The waster returns

I’ll finally explain what happened on Sunday night. (Everyone has left the office for lunch because they have cars and can go places, but I’m stuck here so may as well get caught up on the blog. Oh except for the intern, she takes the bus too but only works a few hours a day. Everyone else are car-people.)

Anyway, on Sunday night/Monday morning, I woke up to a knock on the door around one in the morning. It was a pretty light knock, so I think it was going for a while before I finally woke up.

Then I received a phone call, it was Candy, and she was none too pleased. ‘Someone is knocking on your door. Can you please answer it.’ And she hung up.

Well, I did not expect to see who was standing on the other side.

Pete. Of all fucking people. Pete.

My first question was not ‘Why are you here?’ It was, ‘How did you find me?’ (I’ve moved since he lived with me.)

All he said was ‘Google’ and he wandered into my house without asking.

Candy texted to see if I was okay, and I replied. ‘All okay. Just ex boyfriend drama.’ Which is weird, because I don’t really think of Pete as an ex-boyfriend anylonger. He’s Sarah’s problem. But, I was groggy and surprised and wasn’t really thinking properly.

I asked Pete why he was at my house and he said Sarah kicked him out. I asked why he didn’t go stay with his family, as they live near he and Sarah. All he said was, ‘Yeah. They kicked me out too.’

What a fucking dickhead.

Not in the mood to deal with him, I just asked, ‘Why me? Why here?’

Here’s what he said. Now imagine this in a slow hippie Canadian accent, and you’ll realise how incredibly annoying it is on top of his general response.

‘So, yeah. Like Sarah and I are finished. She’s said she’s done with me. Which is cool because I believe we’re all transient and part of a bigger plan. Like we’re all part of the Universe, star dust, and like we can’t attach. You know. Like the stars can’t…’ (Or some such ridiculous shit. I paraphrase.)

I cut the fuckwit off. ‘Get to the point.’

‘Yeah. Sarah kicked me out for good. And I’m going back to Canada.’

Still didn’t answer why he was at my house. So, I pushed further.

His response was classic. ‘You’ve got some money. I thought you could buy me a plane ticket. Tomorrow (Monday) is Thanksgiving and I kind of want to be back for that.’

I was livid for Sarah. In this entire discussion he didn’t once bring up his two kids or the child on the way. He’s just…oh my god. I get so mad even typing about it two days later.

So, I rang Sarah.

She answered immediately and the moment I said Pete was at my house she started sobbing. Like the sort of sobbing I do. Snot, tears, hyperventilating.

Now, let me explain something. I have known Sarah for a long time, and I’ve never seen her cry. Not properly cry. I’ve seen her drop a single tear to try and get what she wants from University officials and police officers, but never real crying.

This was bad.

Sarah had kicked him out nearly a week ago because she was tired of the fact he wouldn’t work. With a third child on the way, she couldn’t support him and raise her children. She could barely support the kids she had. He was being a drain and she made him leave.

He went to his family’s house, who told him to buck it up and get a job. He then left.

Now, here’s the part that is sooooo Pete.

When I asked him how he got to my flat, he said he walked, because Sarah kicked him out without giving him any money. He spent over two days walking from Erskine to Dundee.

I asked where he stayed in the meantime and he said ‘camped’. Now, he didn’t have any camping equipment on him. In fact, he didn’t even have a bag with him. When I asked him where he camped, he said bus shelters.

He wasn’t camping. He was homeless.

I asked Sarah if she wanted me to send him back to hers, and she said ‘no’. I told her that he wants to go to Canada.

Her response, ‘Good. I don’t care where he goes as long as he’s not in my life.’

I asked her if she was ‘sure’. I mean, as much as he is a complete waste of space, he is the father of her children. Her response, ‘They’re better off without him.’ Then she hung up.

Asking Pete what he thought about all of this. About going to Canada and never seeing his children again, he said some sort of bull shit about life being transient, and he was teaching his kids about being a true primate, and the nomadic life, and how the Universe would bring them together when it was spiritually the right point.

What a fucking idiot.

I was in a serious dilemma. Sarah didn’t want him. Pete’s family on the West Coast didn’t want him. I could send him to Canada using my air miles, but I’d then be a party to three children growing up not knowing their father. I didn’t want to make that choice.

As I stood there looking at him, dirty, smelling, looking for a handout, I realised that this wasn’t my call. Sarah wanted him gone. She’s my friend, and he is making her life and her children’s life worse by being in it. He’s already an absent father. He’s never home.

Right. I needed to send him to Canada.

I told him to shower and get something to eat.

While he was doing that I found flights for him to Toronto leaving that morning at 7am, and I had enough air miles (as I didn’t use them for Rich’s wedding in the end). The flight would even get him into Toronto for Thanksgiving with his family. Maybe they could sort him out, then once he’s not…well, not such a dick…he can come back to see his kids.

He sat in my kitchen eating beans out of a tin without even heating them up. And I told him the plan. He didn’t even say ‘Thank you.’

I told him that he’d need to get a move on. There’s no trains to Edinburgh that early, so I’d put him in a taxi. (A £125 taxi that I paid for.) For a 7am flight, he needed to be there by 5am. I rang a taxi and had it scheduled to arrive for 3.45.

While we were waiting, I told him that he’d get into Toronto in the afternoon, and he could use my Skype to call someone at home. He’d need someone to collect him from the airport, and–as he’s from London (Ontario)–it’s a two hour trip from there to the airport.

His response? ‘I’m not going to London. I’m meeting up with Skinny Frank. He does a massive blow out every year. Finds a warehouse, and builds a few skate ramps. It’s wicked.’

I couldn’t believe it. Pete wasn’t even leaving his kids behind to spend Thanksgiving with his family. He was leaving them behind to attend a rave. Yeah Sarah kicked him out, but he didn’t even try to stay, to win her back.

I didn’t talk to him for the rest of the night, and when the taxi got there I paid the driver and didn’t say a word to Pete.

What the hell did I ever see in that guy?

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